


Humble Abode

by myheroaizawa



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Gen, Poem Reading, he reads a poem he wrote, hes sus af, you both relax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27230902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myheroaizawa/pseuds/myheroaizawa
Summary: Whiffle invites you into his home, and you cant help but feel welcomed.  Too welcomed.
Relationships: thats it - Relationship, ur friends with my oc





	Humble Abode

"Oh, you poor, withered thing... Here, step inside-- yes, that's it, just a bit closer..."

A young man was guiding you through the woods, your hand in his clawed ones as you shivered from the winter that made a home in your skin, however he didn't seem the least bit frozen, not a hair out of place. As minutes passed, you both found yourselves at a small cottage tucked away in the eastern part of the Unknown, hidden in a hollow away from the bizarre world around you.

"Come now, shuck those boots off, you won't do well if you're frozen in your toes, now, will you?" His voice was light yet firm, his english accent making his chuckle all the more fond. With his hooves making quick work against the wooden floor, he made his way from the little kitchen from where he was, then back to the main room, all in very quick time. You had noticed this, and decided to bring up the obvious-- He was Fay, what could he possibly want with you? A frozen human who had gotten lost in the woods?"

"Why, I suppose what any Fay would want with a creature such as you. You know we trick and we play, perhaps I want both..." His movements were languid, his lion-like tail swaying behind him as he hung up your coat alongside his on the rack, then turning back to you with big auburn eyes. "...Or perhaps I want none." His lips formed into a hard line, but his eyes seemed to smirk, catching a tiny glint from the fire. 

When did he find time to make it, when you had arrived with him? You asked. "Never you mind that, warm yourself, why don't you? You haven't forgotten the storm already, have you?" He questioned. It was true, you hadn't forgotten-- Your newly acquired gooseflesh was scraping against the cloth on your back, the hair on your nape standing on end in the same moment. Eyeing him suspiciously, he paid no mind to you as he made his way to the kitchen once more, giving the teapot some well deserved attention as you were left to your devices.

Looking around, from the hearth to the stairs, it was similar to another home in the wood, belonging to an aunt and her niece. The stairwell to the left and the resting area to the right, simple shelves and drawers against walls being the only difference. All the proper tools to poke the fire were in their place, and if this were a man who'd rescued you, you'd have no trouble staying the night.

But, like you had seen, this was a Fay. A trickster who had taken you unwillingly and into his home, and now you were trapped. No way out, you had to survive until the storm passed. 

"Ah, nothing like hot tea on a winter's eve, yes?" He was full of questions as he approached with a tray holding a ceramic teaset, orange and yellow flowers painted along the curves of the trinkets, you notice after he set it down on the table between two armchairs. "I made Jasmine, if that's alright with you. It's just right for a night like this."

He moved to relax against the chair on the hearth's right, resting his head against the doily draping over the seat. The Fay blinked up at you, long ears twitching as he sighed, "if you think I will bite you, then you've another thing coming.." And what would that be? You ask, and in response he reaches for his teacup and pot, pouring carefully into it as he spoke, "you would like to know, wouldn't you? Given my nature, you'd think I'd take very big bites of you, yes?" He leaned back, cradling his cup in between his small paws and breathing steadily, "well, I do _not_ bite. Not even a nibble, I'll take from you."

After a few moments of consideration, you take the seat opposite of him. You also take the wool blanket draped over the cushion and wrap it around yourself. If that was in any way unwelcome, the Fay didn't say a word as he glanced over you in fond amusement. "Glad to see you finally remember your temperature, then..." He chuckled.

For a long time, the two of you sat in silence, but it wasn't awkward. At least, it wasn't awkward _forever._. In the beginning, it confused you. Surely, he was sizing you up! What to break, what to keep, what to take, so on and so forth... But he never took a look at you after he last spoke, either closing his eyes or gazing into the flames, he was calm. It reminded you how you ought to be.

You clinked your cup on its little plate when he suddenly spoke up again, "you know, I'd love to ask for your name. Would you mind giving it to me, human?" Ah, there it was. A fairy trick, the art of _giving a name._ You may call me Snapdragon, then. You tell him, and he perked up, "Ah, so you know the flowers on the set, do you?"

Is that what those are? "Yes, Snapdragon. The flower is a wonderful flower, and just like all flowers they have a meaning to them." He placed his now empty cup down on the table, picking up his pipe instead and taking a puff. What might that be? You ask. "Snapdragons mean _deception_ and _graciosuness._ " He spoke from behind his smoke, then blew it in a ring into the air, giving the room a Jasmine scent.

"But you've no need to fear, as I've told you. You've not a thing to worry about on your pretty little head, _Snapdragon."_ He said more pressingly, looking straight at you now, piercing you with his big brown eyes. Looking away, you found your vision filled with fire, the hearth roaring now as it crackled and filled the silence. A moment or two passed, and the Fay sighed, "In any case, _you_ may call me Whiffle. Not as poetic as your name, but poetic nonetheless." He hummed, puffing a bit and filling the air.

Are you a poet? You ask, to which he smiles endearingly. "Why, yes! Well, I'm not very _good,_ but it suits me just fine." You hesitated before asking if he could share if words, to pass the time of course. His pupils dilated greatly as he nodded, rising from his seat to the desk in the corner that you somehow managed to overlook, and in an instant he was seated again with a few pages between his paws.

  
  
Clearing his throat, he began to speak tenderly.

_My green Mother, you inspire me to write.  
I love the way you create, sing and cook,  
Invading my mind day and through the night,  
Always dreaming about the fire hook.  
  
Let me compare you to a contender?  
You are more mighty, cheerful and jolly.  
Clean winds shake the leafage of September,  
And autumntime has the darling lolli.  
  
How do I love you? Let me count the ways.  
I love your passionate cheeks, smile and eyes.  
Thinking of your pleasant smile fills my days.  
My love for you is the pretty supplies.  
  
Now I must away with a fearful heart,  
Remember my keen words whilst we're apart.  
_

He finished, a soft smile adorning his face. "This will be dedicated to my mother, you know. She has yet to receive it, I've plans to visit as soon as the storm passes." He puffed another breath from his pipe as you listened. Maybe this isn't quite so bad as you had thought? He read his sonnets to you and kept you warm, not a care in the world to how the night went on. Still wary, you poured yourself more tea and voiced your applause, finding the poem sweet.  
  
"Ah, good to hear. I was afraid I would sound too romantic, I've no room in my heart for such things. Only for mother and my kin..." He nodded, satisfied.

The night went on well, he read you a limerick or two before you both found yourselves slumbersome, to which he offered his cot to you. Refusing at first, he brushed off such things in favor of your comfort. "Who am I but a troll anyways? This chair here seems to put me to sleep more times than my bed does most nights. Lay freely, Snapdragon, rest!" Whiffle insisted, and you nodded and moved upstairs, eyeing the only room you could see...

His bedroom was small, all there was was a very plush bed and a few tables, walls covered in moss and picture frames. Quickly settling yourself in, you tucked the blanket you had over the blanket you found yourself in, suspicious yet grateful for Whiffle's comforts and hospitality, despite not trusting him as far as you could throw him-- That could be quite a distance, remembering his frailish stature. In any case, you snuggled into the sheets and wished yourself a goodnight.

Stirring, you woke from slumber hours later, the storm having long since ended and it was dark now, more naturally so than before. The light of the moon was your only source of light as you barely opened an eye to see it shine through the window... And silhouette a figure in the darkness. Eyes widening, you stayed as still as a board, frozen feet curling in towards your bottom as he scrunched at the figure. 

It was very obviously Whiffle-- The scent of jasmine tea and smoke invading your lungs as two glowing brown rings shifted from the nightstand, then slowly to you. He stood still for a moment, watching you like a hawk, before slowly...... Slowly coming down... 

You trembled in fear of death, not letting a single sound escape you as you were trapped in his bed, wild eyes looking up at him. His paw came very slowly towards your face, hovering there for a moment... before tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Quite unsuccessfully, as it fell right back where it was comfortable. A huff sounded from him, then you heard the taps of his hooves get further and further away, signaling his dismissal.

It was going to be a very long night.


End file.
